Who is it?
by Jheric0
Summary: The years have not been kind to Mike, who still struggles to earn enough money to pay his bills. But when news of an auction reached him, he knew that only bad things would follow anyone who purchased the items at that auction. Mike knew it had to be him. Mike didn't have to like it though.
1. Chapter 1

The knock came to the door of the rundown apartment, and he stood up. Walking slowly toward the entrance, every step continued to take longer and longer. Finally, he reached out his hand to the doorknob, and opened it. There was a flash for a moment, a memory of two animatronics, before he was able to focus on the person in front of him.

"You Mike Schmidt?" The man held out a form clipped to some wood with a box blank for a signature. Mike dug around his pockets, finally pulling out an old pen. Scratching it on his palm, he confirmed it was still working. Taking the wood, Mike signed it slowly.

"Yeah, that's me." Mike's voice was low, as if speaking was something he was unused to. The voice almost seemed to startle him, and Mike glanced behind him for a moment. Handing back the form, Mike stepped back as the man brought forward the boxes of items.

"Where do you want this?" For a moment, the man was standing there, before Mike motioned for him to follow. Walking past an open living room, surprisingly neat despite the various papers crumpled around it. Mike pulled out a key, and unlocked a room, holding it open so the guy could wheel the boxes inside.

"Alright, I'll be on my way then." The man broke a smile, turning toward Schmidt, who had eyes only for the boxes. After a moment, Mike blinked, and gave a nervous smile. Walking out of the room, Mike once more locked it, and then escorted the guy to the exit. Waving a quick goodbye, Mike closed the door just as the man got a call on his phone.

"Yeah I just delivered it, guy's completely strange. Eh, he was the only one who even went to the auction, let alone paid for it. Doesn't matter as long as it's out of your hair, right?" Sighing, Mike turned, and headed back toward the room. After standing at the door for a moment, he bit his lip, and slowly opened it. Nothing had changed.

Mike pulled out a note, and stuck it to the outside of the door. Entering, he locked himself inside, and put the keys in his pocket. Turning around, he took a few steadying breaths, and approached the boxes. Shaky hands reached out with a knife, and he opened the first. There were two other boxes. One the same size as this one, and one very long one.

Mike breathed a sigh as he saw mainly office objects in the first one, and placed them in their rightful place on a desk he had also purchased. The purpose might not have been intended for this at first, but it served a definite purpose. When Mike pulled out the final item, he blinked in surprise. Placing the cupcake down, he remembered how much he had hated it.

The second box contained spare parts. Surprisingly, there was even a paper plate of Balloon Boy, browned, but intact. Mike placed them in one corner of the room, feeling like he was treading on their remains if he went through it. Turning, he regarded the final box, and watched it thump slightly.

Mike pulled out a makeshift set of 'armor'. Mostly, it was just padded clothing designed for construction workers. Wrapping a scarf tightly around his neck, he shuddered, whimpering for a moment. Flashes of the four, no five, animatronics. Mike didn't want to open this box, even as he put on his football helmet. Glancing toward another table, he quickly checked the straps, the one part he had spared no expense on.

Gulping, Mike grabbed his two metal forks, used normally for stoking fires. Approaching the box, he watched it thump a second time. Mike reached out with one fork, and carefully removed the tape from one long side, allowing the thing inside to get free. There was a pause, and then one side slowly opened. Mike crouched, biting his lip as sweat beaded down his face.

"Rarrrgh!" The animatronic exploded out of the box, pivoting to try and move toward Mike. Mike dived out of the way, coming to a crouch, heart pounding as he waited for the animatronic to try again. As it did so, he dived toward a spot behind the table, knowing there was only one way to get to him. The animatronic leaned over, and Mike took his chance.

Moving forward, Mike using one fork to keep the other hand away as he slapped the strap over one hand. Pulling it tight, he then pushed the table into the animatronic, causing it to fall slightly onto it. Running around it through the gap he had just made, Mike used his fork to position the second hand, strapping it down. The screeching of it intensified, and Mike was glad he had soundproofed the room after all. Looking at the kicking legs, Mike gulped, and forced himself to continue.

Grabbing one leg, he strapped it in, grunting as he struggled to keep it steady. Moving onto the next one, he managed to get it strapped in, and stepped back. Putting a hand to his beating heart, he sat down on the floor, gasping heavily. As his heartbeat steadied, his vision began to swim, and he put a hand to his head.

Standing up, Mike finally got a look at the animatronic. It was one he didn't recognize, but it was definitely a Fazbear animatronic. It wasn't the suit that scared him the most though, it was the human eyes inside it. Mike began to shake, taking in every tiny detail about this animatronic. Turning, he dived for a bucket, and deposited his lunch into it.

Wiping his mouth, Mike slowly approached, checking the restraints were working. They were, but he needed to tighten them. As Mike did so, he blinked as the scream cut off, and noticed the animatronic was now watching him. Gulping once more, he wondered what it was thinking about.

Mike pulled out his key, seeing that the animatronic was now secure, and turned. Pulling off a glove, he unlocked the door, glancing back toward it. Biting his lip, Mike left the room, locking the door behind him. Taking off his helmet, he leaned against the door, and closed his eyes. After a moment like this, the heat of his outfit became too much, and he changed into something less bulky.

Mike walked toward the end of his hallway, coming to a second locked room, the one that led to his bedroom. It was the second room in the house with no windows, the first being the one now holding the animatronic. Stepping inside, he once more locked the door, and turned to examine his room.

There was a simple bed in one corner, but the majority of the space was taken up by papers. News clippings, drawings, rumors, and a big board with string linking up the major articles to certain pictures or photos. Mike walked over to it, and pulled out an image of a paper plate that had been captured on video. A crooked ear, white eyes, a bunny.

Walking over to an old cassette tape player, Mike pulled out one of his cassette tapes from a box beside it, and slipped it inside. As it played, Mike pulled out a pen, and searched his walls for a blank space. Finding one on the door-frame, he leaned over, and began to write. Two words, repeated on all walls of his room. 'It's me.' The recording began to play.

"Hello? Hello hello? I wanted to record a message for you-"


	2. Chapter 2

"Mike, I know you're there," spoke his answering machine. Groaning, Mike shifted onto his back, looking up at the ceiling as he layed on his bed. The same two words painted a landscape of blocky stars, and he rose to a sitting position. Rubbing his eyes, he leaned over to the phone near his desk, and picked it up.

"I'm here, what do you want?" Trying not to be turt despite the early hour, Mike looked around his room as he waited for a response.

"I'm sorry Mike, but we're gonna have to let you go. You'll receive a week's pay, but you don't need to come into work. We didn't do too well this season, and we're cutting back in a lot of places." The voice on the other end was apologetic, and Mike sighed in response.

"It's...fine. Thank you for calling. I will. Goodbye." Mike hung up the phone, and dialed a number, waiting as it rung.

"Hey, you got any part time work available? Yeah, it's gonna take me a while to find another one. What do they pay? ...It's not ideal, but I'll take it. Yeah, thanks, bye." Hanging up the phone, Mike pulled out a planner, marking out the day for his part-time employment. The paper didn't get delivered for another day, he'd try to find a new job then.

Mike walked out of his bedroom, locking the door behind him. Walking into his living room, he opened the door to the kitchen, and placed a piece of toast in his toaster. Once it was cooked, he bit down on it, and headed back into the living room. Taking a seat on the couch, he flicked on his half-busted tv.

"...dead in a hospital on…" Listening to the news, Mike slowly munched on his toast, closing his eyes for a moment in thought. Pulling out a small tablet, he turned it on and checked the only screen. A crystal clear image showed the animatronic still attached to the table. Narrowing his eyes, Mike also checked that the restraints were still attached.

"Ssssss." The tv suddenly cut out, showing static, and gaining Mike's attention. Freezing, Mike's breathing hitched. The golden bear slowly crawled out of the tv, growing in size. As it approached Mike, the toast, still half in his mouth, dropped to the floor. Slowly, Mike pulled up his tablet, putting it between them, and lowered it. It was gone.

"He's back," whispered Mike, standing up and turning off the tv. Leaning against a wall, he slumped to the ground, shaking silently. The nights flashed through his head, even after all these years, vivid and blinding. Breathing slowly, he remained that way for a moment longer, before rising back off the floor.

"Alright, focus." Walking toward the door that led to the animatronic, Mike unlocked it, and entered. Slowly, the animatronic head turned toward him, and he gulped. Closing the door, he glanced toward the note he had left on the door. 'If you are reading this, there is a murdering monster in this room. Never open this door.'

"Ok, I've got this guy here. What do I do with him?" Closing the door, Mike locked it and slowly approached the animatronic. It continued staring at him, not emitting a single sound. That is, if you excluded the shallow breathing. Forcing himself to look over the body, Mike still had no clues as to what he could do.

"Maybe that old manual…" Turning, Mike dug around in a dusty box, pulling out a yellowed booklet. Flipping it open, he quickly skimmed the paragraphs about the springlock animatronic. Biting his lip, he tossed it back in the box, and rubbed his forehead. Beginning to pace the room, Mike frowned in concentration.

"Think, where does this one fit into everything. There are the normal five, those toy versions, that Balloon Boy, and this one. A 'puppet' was also mentioned. Pictures...pictures…" Mike pulled out another box, rifling around before finally revealing a single picture of a puppet giving a present to a smiling kid.

"The spring-lock animatronic...likely this one. But why is there no record of it after a certain point. That room being sealed off..." Placing the picture back in the box, Mike stood up and looked toward the animatronic. It was still watching him, he shuddered. Movement in the corner of his vision caught his eye, and he blinked.

The paper plate Balloon Boy had moved, and was now resting on top of the table. What's more, it seemed to be looking right at him. Mike shifted back, feeling the security of the wall behind him. Apprehension crawled through him, and he forced himself to continue taking breaths. Glancing toward the animatronic, still staring at him, he looked back toward the Balloon Boy. It had moved again.

"H-Hello?" Mike didn't dare move, knowing that something else was in this room. Something he didn't have strapped down to a table. The Balloon Boy paper plate seemed to flutter in a breeze despite the enclosed room, and Mike felt all his courage leave him. Diving for the door, Mike unlocked it as quick as his could, pulling it open.

Mike felt a hand on his shoulder, and froze, mid step to freedom. Slowly, he turned his head, seeing something slowly come into view. It wasn't the animatronic, nor the paper plate. It had pitch black eyes, with a white mask that had purple streaks going down it's face. Mike felt his heart beating inside his chest, about to burst out. He didn't dare breathe. He didn't dare blink.

Mike watched it fade right in front of his eyes, and collapsed to the floor, still in the doorway. Using the door, he pulled himself upright, and forced himself to look inside the room. Everything was back to normal, and the animatronic was still looking at him. Mike looked toward the Balloon Boy paper plate, and closed the door, locking it.

"Not today!" Mike laughed wildly as he dashed toward his room, unlocking it and relocking it. Looking back as he put a wall behind him, he tried desperately to bring himself back to some sort of coherent thought beyond the desire to run. Mike looked around his room, snatching his marker from the table, and wrote the two words three more times.

Calming down, Mike took a seat on his bed, still shaking. Closing his eyes, he slowly absorbed the event that had occurred in the room. Somehow, three _things_ were in his apartment now. One he had brought here himself, but the other two were much more foreboding. Why had that puppet appeared?

"Why does it always feel like I'm missing that one crucial piece to this puzzle?" Mike flopped back onto his bed, and sighed. So many questions, and so few answers. The murders, the animatronics, and the security guard. There was something deeper to this, he knew it.

"I just hope finding out doesn't kill me in the process."


	3. Chapter 3

_No doors, no doors, no doors!_

"Oof!" Falling onto the cold floor, Mike untangled himself from his ragged blanket. Sighing, he rubbed his temple. Taking a moment to look at his room, he stood up, and walked over to one wall, looking at it. After a moment, he turned, and headed towards his bedroom door. Unlocking it, he made his way to the bathroom, and pulled out some cleaning utensils.

"That dream again, why is it always that dream?" Mike sighed as he scrubbed one of his bedroom walls clean. Wiping it off with a damp rag, he admired the blank surface for a moment. Nodding once, he returned the cleaning equipment back to the bathroom, and pulled out a brand new marker.

In letters large than all the others written around the room, Mike wrote three words instead of his usual two. Slow, precise movements led him through each stroke, and as he finished, he closed his eyes. Finally, he added a question mark to the end. Putting the marker away, Mike turned toward his door, knowing it was time for work.

The words he had written echoed in his head as he locked his door. They echoed as he checked the animatronic was still secure. As he opened the front door, and left for work. They echoed a question, a thought still half-formed in his mind. Memories of before he worked at Freddy's obscured by their haze, it was a question Mike wasn't ready to face.

_Was it me?_

* * *

Returning home, Mike threw his bag onto the counter, and slumped onto his couch. After a moment of hesitation, he turned on the news. From the looks of things, they were still reporting on the death at the hospital. Mike stifled a yawn, and tried to pay attention.

"Police are still not ruling out murder, despite a suicide note to the contrary. We will update you as soon as fresh information comes in. In other news, our President has declared a rise to the minimum wage. Low-budget earners rejoice-." Smiling, Mike was pleased at the good news. Money had been getting tighter and tighter, and finally he would gain some breathing room.

"If you think you see this individual, please report this to…" Pulling out the newspaper, Mike began scanning the classifieds. A lot of them were for jobs he was unqualified for, but thankfully two seemed promising. Circling them, he resolved to answer them in the morning. A ringing began to sound, and Mike rose from the chair.

"Hello?" Unlocking his door, Mike answered it just before it clicked off. There had been a hope it might be about some more part-time work, but he was immensely disappointed. Not only was it not in any way helpful to him, it was from a labcoat.

"Mike, it's me, your Psychologist. I noticed you cancelled your meeting this week. I'm just calling to see if there was a reason." The voice grated against Mike, and he clenched his teeth.

"I told you in the call. Money's a bit tight right now, I can't." While it wasn't exactly a lie, it wasn't the truth either. Mike hated going to visit him. It wasn't because the man was bad or anything, but he didn't understand.

"Alright Mike, just this one I'll give you a free checkup. How does this Friday sound?" Just great, now Mike was even receiving charity. The thought grated through him so strong, it was hard keeping the displeasure out of his voice.

"No, don't spend your money on me. I'll try to save for next month." There was a hollow note to Mike's voice, and both knew he wasn't telling the truth.

"So what's the real reason you never come to a session Mike?" The line was silent for a long time after the labcoat spoke, before a sigh came through the line. Biting his lip, Mike knew what the labcoat was going to say.

"Mike, if you keep skipping your checkups, I'm going to have to contact the Psychiatric Hospital. You know they only let you out under the condition you come to these sessions." The line was silent for a moment longer, and just as the labcoat was about to put down the phone, Mike spoke.

"I'd like to take you up on your free session Doc. I honestly can't afford it this month. Midday sound good?" Mike closed his eyes as he heard scribbling through the phone, before a pleased voice answered.

"Of course Mike, see you then. Click~" Putting the phone down, Mike sighed as he stood up. Pulling out a second tape, Mike removed the first one from his cassette player. Placing it in, he let himself relax slightly as the familiar ringing sounded.

"You knew," he spoke, placing a hand on top of the player as the guy on the recording began to speak. Turning, Mike reached out to his door, preparing to lock it before he went to sleep. Closing it gently, he locked it, and headed toward his bed. Slipping onto the bed, he stretched, and stifled a yawn.

"Hrm?" A blinking red light on his tablet alerted him to something, and he pulled it up to his face. The battery was going flat. Mike switched on the charger and plugged it in. With any luck, he'd be able to go out to the library tomorrow to research more about spring-locks. Maybe something there would lead to a clue.

"Goodnight," he spoke aloud to no one, pulling the blanket around him as he closed his eyes. Did he feel safe? Not really, but with two locked doors the animatronic should at least make a lot of noise trying to get to him. As he drifted off, Mike wondered what his chances of no nightmares would be.

His guess of 0 was, of course, spot on.


	4. Chapter 4

_Mike knew he was dreaming, even as he smashed his fist into the button, closing the door to Foxy, listening to the three bangs. He had no idea how much battery he had remaining, and it was too risky to check the cameras. At least, for three more seconds. Finally, he closed the right door, opened the left, and checked his battery._

"_Shit…" Mike put the camera down and opened the right door, flashing the lights. Calculating how long he had based on the battery, he glanced to his clock, and knew there was no chance he would make it. Mike let his arms fall, and closed his eyes. He had thought he might make it this time, but every single time it was proven futile._

_Mike checked the cameras one final time, taking a long look at each of the rooms. Words and garbled sounds flashed in front of him, and he shook it off, clicking onto the camera that the fifth animatronic appeared from. Pausing, he frowned, leaning closer. It was the picture of Freddy pulling his head off._

_Was that, a golden tint? Why would it be trying to tear it's head off? Mike knew there was something important about this poster. As his tablet was forcibly lowered, he expected Freddy or Foxy to scare him. However, instead there was that animatronic he had found. The golden springlock Bonnie. It pulled at it's upper and lower animatronic head, pulling them apart to reveal the...ugh-underneath._

Mike jolted upright, and rubbed his forehead. Standing up, he pulled out a photo of the very image in his dream, and narrowed his eyes. Mike felt on edge, there was something just out of reach, if only he could find the final clue. Putting the photo in his pocket, Mike knew there was a way that might, _might_, yield answers.

Locking his bedroom door, Mike entered the other locked room slowly. Seeing nothing paranormal happening, he quietly locked the door behind him, approaching the animatronic. Once again, it was looking silently at him. Mike quickly checked the straps were on properly. Finished that task, he breathed in, forcing himself to stare at the animatronic for a moment.

"Was this your doing?" Mike pulled out the picture, showing it to the animatronic. For a moment, the animatronic didn't react. Mike was about to give up hope this would help with answers, when a slow nod came from the animatronic. Mike yelped, stepping backward in surprise, dropping the picture. It fluttered gently to the ground.

"A-Are you Golden Freddy too?" Mike backed up to the nice secure wall, watching as the animatronic shook it's head. This just about confirmed his suspicion of them being intelligent. Freddy seeming to learn, it wasn't just in his head! Mike felt a shaky smile come on his face. Something that could prove he wasn't crazy!

"Okay, I've gotta calm down. One step at a time." Mike forced himself to take a few deep breaths, looking back toward the animatronic. So, the animatronic could nod and shake his head, but nothing more. Mike needed to use this while he had the chance. There was one question he wanted answered.

"Okay, I've got another question." Approaching the animatronic, he pulled out a newspaper clipping relating to five missing children. Pointing to it, he narrowed his eyes, forcing himself to look at the animatronic again.

"Did you have something to do with the missing children?" Putting the newspaper down, Mike kept his eyes on the animatronic. Very slowly, another nod came. The animatronic screeched, and Mike gritted his teeth, blocking his ears to the sound. It abruptly stopped, and he looked toward the animatronic.

"Do you know who the murderer was?" Once more, Mike was rewarded with a nod. Here it was, the feeling like he had that final missing piece. This could be it, but a part of him wondered if he was ready for answers. A sharp pang of pain caused Mike to hold his head and groan, pictures of Bonnie and Freddy along with the words that Mike knew so well.

"It, it's you." Raising his head, Mike removed his hand as the pain cleared, looking toward the animatronic. Staring at it, his mind refused to catch up with him, and he could only blink in response. The illusions he saw, were they caused by this animatronic. The room being sealed...Something had definitely happened.

"Alright, one final question." Taking a deep breath, Mike once more raised his head.

"Do you know what happened to the guy that was on the phone?" There was a moment of trepidation, before the animatronic shook his head. Mike bit his lip and sighed, rubbing his forehead. That final message...the heads in the back room. So much mystery, mystery that guy would know about.

"Alright, thank you." Mike turned and headed toward the door. Glancing back, he remembered his photo on the floor, and walked over, picking it up and putting it in his pocket. Turning toward the door, he blinked. The puppet was standing between him and the door. Taking a step back, Mike remembered the proximity of the animatronic, and glanced toward it for a split second.

Realising his mistake, Mike looked back, seeing the puppet had vanished. Gulping, he glanced around the room. There was nothing out of place. Taking a step toward the door, he saw a motion in the corner of his eye, and turned toward it just as two gloved hands closed around his neck.

"Gaaak!" Mike was slammed into the wall, lifted up so he couldn't touch the floor. Dangling, he clenched his teeth and tried to remove the fingers around his neck. Unable to do so, he began to black out. The hands released him, and he fell to the floor, coughing. Glancing up at the mask on the puppet, Mike somehow understood a message was being made.

_Talk to him, and I kill you._

While he didn't know precisely what was trying to be said, Mike managed to get enough to know that talking to the animatronic would anger the puppet, for whatever reason. Using the wall to lift himself up, Mike opened his mouth to object.

"But he's my one chance to get answers!" The puppet stood there, staring with it's pitch black eyes. Mike needed those answers, he needed the truth. What did the puppet want? Why did it not want him talking to the animatronic? Just what the hell happened at Freddy's? After a moment, the puppet faded, and Mike growled.

"Is that a go forward or a go forward and I kill you?" Shouting at the room, his eye twitched at the absence of an answer. Sighing, he put a hand on his forehead, feeling faint. Jumping, he heard the phone ringing, and quickly discarded such thoughts as he rushed to answer it. Of course, he still locked the animatronic room door behind him.

"Hello?" Listening to the silence on the other end, Mike wondered just who was contacting him. It was considerably early, 6am, not normally a time when people called. Mike considered hanging up, pursuing his lip as he started to removed the phone from his ear. Naturally, this was when the voice on the other end opted to speak.

"We need to talk," he spoke, sending chills down Mike's spine. There was no way, that couldn't be, but…

"I've been getting reports of you making...inquiries into the past of the Freddy Fazbear company. Is this true?" The voice seemed serious, almost business-like in it's tone. But Mike knew that voice, and it sent chills down his spine to hear new words from it after so long. Quietly, Mike pressed a record button on his phone.

"...I have." There was no point denying it, Mike knew that. And he couldn't just come out and ask about it either. The ball was in the other guy's court, and Mike had to wait for it to be thrown to him. At least, unless he became desperate. A sigh came through the line.

"Very well. I hope you are prepared for what follows next."

_Click._

Mike put the phone back on the hook, and pressed play on his phone. The recording had vanished. Taking a seat on his bed, Mike rubbed his face, slumping as he rubbed between his shoulder-blades. Had he imagined it? There was something paranormal about the puppet, so it wasn't something he could rule out.

"One step forward, two steps back," he commented, standing up to head for the library.


	5. Chapter 5

Mike tossed the book into the bin, growling quietly with anger. Nothing, nothing at all that would help him. Dozens of books talking about animatronics, a few mentions of the springlock kind, and nothing on the one's used at Freddy's. Rubbing his forehead, Mike walked over to the newspaper viewer, flicking back to look at the articles he had in his room.

Mike scrolled back, looking for any mention of Freddy. After a while, his eyes began to glaze over, and he spun the dial, watching it go back in time. Seeing nothing new still, he stood up, and turned around. Heading out of the library, Mike squinted at the sunlight peeking through the clouds.

Heading home, Mike knew he had work tomorrow, and then the trip to the doctor's, meaning this was his only free day for some time. Looking at the path before him, Mike flashed back to his many trips through the diner. The quiet echo of his footsteps as he hurried to his desk before the click onto midnight…

Blinking, Mike raised his head, realising he was alone on the street. A car rolled past, vanishing around a corner. Looking around, Mike frowned. This was a busy street, it shouldn't be this empty considering it was lunchtime. Where was everyone? Turning, Mike breathed in sharply, stepping back as Golden Freddy sat there, watching.

'_They're following me out here too now!?_' Mike closed his eyes and held his head. Hallucination or not, he had no doubt that Golden Freddy could kill. Mike could feel him coming toward him. Slowly, methodically, crawling toward him with open malice in it's pitch black eyes. Mike jumped as a hand touched his shoulder.

"Hey dude, are you ok?" It was a random stranger, one of the few surrounding him that had paused to watch him. Mike shook his head rapidly, and gave a weak smile.

"Oh! Yeah I'm fine. I get headaches sometimes, it's a medical condition. Thank you though." Mike smiled properly at the man, who frowned and tilted his head. There was a question on his lips, but he closed his mouth and looked toward the crowd instead.

"Alright, I imagine without a _screen_ to monitor _it, _it'd be hard to know when _it_ is coming on." The man gave Mike a serious look, and slowly the crowd began to clear. Standing up, Mike followed the man into a side street, giving him a searching look. The man pulled out a small card, and Mike read the name on it.

"Fritz, Fritz Smith. I believe we've met?" Mike searched his memory as the man nodded, and finally remembered their connection. They had met inside the asylum, two workers suffering from hallucinations. Handing back the card, Mike took in the man. Unlike Mike, this was a man who had managed to clean up his life, suit and tie carefully ironed and business-like glasses.

"So, how's life been for you Mike?" Fritz narrowed his eyes, and Mike shuddered once in response. They were both silent for a long time, thoughts whirling through each other's brains. Fritz sighed, and held out a small, sealed cardboard box.

"Here, I heard you purchased all the stuff from the auction including...Look Mike, I'm cutting my ties here. My life has finally returned to normal, I suggest you try to do the same." Fritz bit his lip as Mike took the box, and shook his head.

"I can't do that Fritz. You know that." Mike opened the box and looked inside. There was a tape recorder, and a whole bunch of tapes. Pausing, Mike blinked, and a smile came on his face.

"The scream! I can record the scream!" Mike quickly said goodbye to Fritz, and began to jog home. Stopping at a small store, he bought a microphone which he could plug into his tablet. Recording software he could download. Mike felt a stirring of hope, maybe there was something inside the scream!

Entering his house, Mike locked the door and set the program to download onto his tablet. Checking on the camera, he confirmed nothing had changed, and jogged into his room to listen to the new recordings. Glancing to his wall, he pulled out the marker, and wrote the two words down once.

"Uh, hello? Hello, hello? Uh, hello and welcome to your new summer job at the new and improved Freddy Fazbear's Pizza." Mike walked over, listening as the recording played. Closing his eyes, he put a hand to his chin, digesting the information being given to the new night guard. Mike could guess this was from the establishment before him.

Mike turned the recording off, knowing he would have to listen to the rest later. For now, his recording program had downloaded, and he plugged in the microphone. Unlocking the door, he entered the room, closing it behind him. Looking around the room, he breathed in.

"Listen, I only want to ask him one thing. So please don't choke me. Ok?" Glancing around the room, Mike saw no change. Taking that as a go ahead, Mike approached the animatronic, holding the microphone out.

"Alright, you have that scream right? Please scream into this." Mike pressed the record, and waited as the animatronic looked at him. After a moment, it's mouth opened, and it screamed loudly. Mike winced, but nodded. Checking his program, he was relieved to see it hadn't blown out his microphone.

"Alright, thanks." Mike turned and left the room, closing the door behind him. Stepping into his living room, he began to use various features on his program to mess with the scream. After some time, he managed to get a garbled message that set his entire body on edge.

'_I'm sorry,'_ it spoke. Mike closed the program down, and stared into the distance for a moment. The murderer was sorry. Mike big his lip, unsure what to feel about that information. Living an undeath as an animatronic for years, it was hard not to feel some measure of sympathy for him. But it didn't change the fact that he was a murderer.

"This is heavy," he muttered, rubbing his forehead as he thought on this new information.


	6. Chapter 6

"Thank you for coming Mr Schmidt. Take a seat, and we will begin when you are comfortable." The doctor was a well dressed man in his 30's, neatly cropped hair rimmed by a pair of glasses. Mike inwardly sighed, taking a seat and settling in for a long talk about things he did not wish to talk about.

"So how have you been Mike? Have the nightmares stopped?" The doctor watched as Mike shook his head, and made a note of this fact before putting his pen down, and hitting record on a recorder.

"So, how has life been treating you Michael? I heard you recently purchased some memorabilia relating to Freddy Fazbear." Eyes watching Mike, the doctor noticed the brief flare of surprise that was quickly snuffed. Shrugging, Mike looked toward the window as a bird flew past.

"I know you won't believe me if I can't prove my claims, so I've decided to try and find the truth behind what really happened." Closing his eyes, Mike wished he could have kept this hidden for longer. But there was one thing he knew, and that was lying would only fail. The doctor was good at his job, too good.

"Mike, we've talked about this. Holding onto the past into good for your mental health. You need to step past this notion of the past deciding your future, and just accept that it's time to move on." The doctor gave a sympathetic smile to Mike, who scoffed, opening his eyes and leaning forward to glare at the doctor. His hands gripped the chair, digging into the fabric deeply.

"You're just like the rest of them. You don't' believe a word of what I said, what Fritz said. You think we're crazy, but just you wait. I'll prove the truth to you. I'll prove it to everyone!" Breathing in gasps, Mike's vision fogged and he slumped, putting a hand to his head as he felt faint for a moment. The doc watched him for a moment, before sighing, and taking off his glasses. Gently holding them on his lap, he looked seriously at Mike.

"I can see that your time outside of the asylum has only made your condition worse. I'm afraid, if you continue down this path, I will have to sign the paperwork to have you impounded again." Eyes calmly staring at Mike, the doctor watched as blind fury flashed across his patient's features, before abruptly fading.

"I'll give you one more week Mike. Same time next week will be the appointment. If you haven't gotten rid of those knick knacks, I will be forced to take more extreme measures. Come now Mike, do you really want to let the past drag you down again? We were making so much progress before your release." The doctor slowly placed his glasses back on, and picked up his notebook. Writing down the appointment, he held it out for Mike.

"You're just like everyone else," spat Mike with venom, snatching the note and storming out of the office. The doctor winced as the door slammed shut, and pulled up the receiver to his phone. Dialing a number, he waited for a response.

"Hey Doctor. I took pictures of everything just like you asked. Mike had two locked rooms, but I managed to get them open and look inside. This guy is a complete and utter ntucase." As the voice spoke, the doctor glanced to his fax machine, watching as photos began to be printed out, showing the various rooms in Mike's apartment.

"...I'll organise his impoundation tomorrow, thank you for your work." Putting the phone down, the doctor sighed, placing the photo's in Mike's folder. Pausing, he looked at the one with the animatronic, tilting his head curiously. It was strange, it almost appeared to be looking directly at the camera.

[hr]

Mike entered his apartment, and felt something off immediately. Locking his front door, he examined his living room, before flicking toward the animatronic camera. With no change there, he walked up to his room to check everything was fine in there. Sure enough, there was no change. The door was unlocked, but Mike supposed he could have easily forgotten to lock it.

Rubbing his forehead Mike turned and made his way to the animatronic room. Checking the lock, he narrowed his eyes when he found it unlocked. Opening it, he found nothing changed inside. Someone had definitely been here, and he had an idea of whom had been behind it. Stepping inside, Mike closed the door behind him, and slid into a sitting position.

"All I wanted to know was why, and now I'm going to be sent back to that white jail." Curling into a ball, he closed his eyes and bit his lip.

"No one believes the truth you know. They think I'm crazy. And I can't prove it to them, no matter how I tried. They'll take everything I've collected away, and I'll be forced to spend another ten years locked up in the loony bin." Sighing, Mike raised his head, looking to his palm as he raised it upward.

"And then one day, Golden Freddy will come for me, and I won't have a monitor to protect me. I must look like such a fool for even trying." Chuckling, Mike glanced toward the puppet, turning his attention to the animatronic. Leaning back, he stared at the ceiling.

"My story ends, and questions unanswered never will be." Standing up, Mike opened the door, closing it with a click. There wasn't any point to locking it, the animatronic couldn't get free, and they had gotten inside anyway. Grabbing his tape player and the remaining tapes, he sat on his bed, listening to them.

"-_when the place eventually opens again I'll probably take the night shift myself. Okay, good night and good luck._" So, the final tape had been created for the sixth night. And Fritz had spoken about taking the seventh night. Placing the player down, Mike sighed, and glanced toward a corner of the room.

"I know you're there," he spoke to the space, and blinked. There it was, Golden Freddy, watching him. They were both silent for a long time, before Mike sighed, and rolled onto his bed, facing the other direction.

"In the end, the one I failed was not myself, but those kids. I wonder which one you were, but I suppose it doesn't matter, does it?" Closing his eyes, Mike sighed, curling up slightly as he opened them one more, giving a weary look to his wall. Was it him?

"Well," he smiled sadly. "At least that's one question I managed to answer." Drifting off to sleep, Mike yawned despite the circumstances. Knowing this might be his last chance at a proper sleep, he vaguely wondered what his dream would be.


	7. Chapter 7

_Mike sat in the chair, listening to the Phone guy's death. Sighing, he stood up, and looked out the door. His every fibre warned him to return, play out the dream as intended, but Mike steeled himself. Not tonight, his final night before returning to the Asylum. Stepping out into the hallway, he saw Bonnie peek out from the broom closet. Mike ignored him, and walked past._

_Footsteps followed behind him, but he didn't stop. Foxy peeked his head out, and Chica glanced her head out of the kitchen. Freddy watched him as he stepped onto the stage. Turning, Mike walked into the back room, and looked toward the heads along the back. Slowly, his eyes turned toward the floor, where a box in the corner hid what appeared to be a hole._

_Mike walked toward it, the animatronics right behind him. Pushing the box out of the way, he leaned down, peeking into the blackness. Slowly, two animatronic eyes appeared in the darkness, their flickering glow illuminating some of the old room. Looking at the faint outline, Mike finally knew where Springtrap had been hidden, too broken to move._

'_Uh, I-I-I-I always wondered what was in all those empty heads back there.'_

'_-Back there.'_

_Could it-_

**SLAM**

The door slammed open, and Mike leapt to his feet, opening the bedroom door as the loony bin people entered, informing him he was to be taken away. Mike turned, trying to flee to the safety of his room, but they grabbed him, dragging him backwards as they entered the room with the animatronic. Mike glanced inside as they passed, seeing boxes being inflated and items beginning to be stored.

"No! Wait! Don't touch that!" Mike tried desperately to warn them as he was dragged away, staining to catch a glimpse of what they were doing to his room. As one turned toward Springtrap, his whole body froze. Struggling, he managed to pull out his tablet, hearing his alarm go off, and the image of each clasp being removed. Watching in silent horror, Mike saw the moment the final clasp was released, and an inhuman screech resounded.

"Augh!" All turned toward the room as the sound came from the worker being strangled. Cries of horror began to emerge, and all were frozen. Mike, finding himself free, darted into the room, pushing people out of the way and putting him in front as he looked the animatronic in the eye.

"Stop! Listen to me. I know!" Raising his hands, he pointed to one of the few items not yet packed, an old phone. Springtrap turned, his hands still around the worker's neck. After a moment, his hand loosened enough to allow the worker to make gasping breaths. Using his borrowed time, Mike began to speak quickly.

"You say you're sorry? Now is the perfect time to prove it. Don't kill him, prove that all those helpful tips you gave the nightguards were not just an act. Prove it to it, and him." While he had no clue if his words would ring true, Mike had to try. It wasn't likely the puppet or Golden Freddy would ever forgive him, but he couldn't blame them.

There was silence for a long time, those witnessing this confused above all else. Slowly, Springtrap released the worker, who made a break for the exit. Mike breathed a sigh of relief. There had been enough death, which was too much to begin with. Looking toward the half-packed boxes, Mike noticed the puppet was missing, and turned back toward Springtrap.

The three seemed to be sharing a private conversation, and soon enough Golden Freddy faded. The Puppet seemed to deflate, and flopped to the ground, laying there like a piece of fabric with a mask stuck to it. The only one who didn't change was Springtrap, who continued to look at Mike. Tilting his head, wondering if the spirit was still inside it, he nearly jumped as the animatronic took a step toward him.

The phone rang, and Mike ignored the fact it was disconnected, and picked it up, answering it. A single word was spoken, before the person on the other side clicked off. A faint smile formed on his face, and Mike felt his knees grow weak. After a moment, he began to laugh, pure joy rimming his features.

For the single word that had been spoken was 'proof'.

* * *

Mike yawned as he returned home from a long day of work. Being the nightguard was exhausting, but he had done worse. His home was clean, and neatly furnished with a decent view, something he had been grateful for upon receiving. Humming a merry tune, he headed for the kitchen to make himself a meal. The door opened once more five minutes later, and Mike peeked his head out.

"So, they decided how to charge you yet?" Inserting an earpiece, Mike clicked a button as it began to ring. A familiar voice answered, and he continued eating his meal.

"So you can just leave the moment you decide to right?" Springtrap nodded his head, and Mike glanced toward the newspaper. As usual, the news about the discovery of a living animatronic was a top story, as was how to judge the crimes. Mike didn't entirely know what side to take, and he had said as much when asked.

"I don't think your crimes will ever be truly forgiven, but at least they gave you a proper burial once they managed to get your body out." Shrugging, Mike stood up and headed for his bedroom. Waving goodbye, he watched Springtrap return to the room he was staying in. Opening the door, Mike pulled out his marker, and looked around his walls before picking a space.

'It wasn't me,' he wrote, stepping back and stifling a yawn. Locking his door, he went to bed, knowing that his dreams would be about current worries. The past had been finally laid to rest.

Now if only he could stop writing on walls like a nutjob.


End file.
